#LIKE I GUESS THE IMPLICATION IS THAT LIKE

[yutarot]

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

twenty-eight — i’ve nothing to fear wc: 1.3k

you have no idea what you’re doing here.

the moment you read that final text from yuta about jaehyun, your heart soared, as if it was longing for him, reaching for him. and so here you are, desperate, outside jaehyuns dorm.

you knock three times.

please answer, please.

there’s a moment of stillness, a moment in which anxiety floods you. but you know you haven’t made a mistake, you have to be here. you have to tell jaehyun that you know.

the door opens.

he looks disheveled, disheartened even.

you had broken his heart.

and he had broken yours.

so you just say it. no implications, no consequences. you just say it.

“yuta told me.” you say, a heavy sigh of relief following your words.

he stands still, but you notice the smirk in his lips. the relief in his eyes.

so you continue. “you wanted it to be special..you wanted to ask me yourself.”

he’s grinning now, watching you unravel from a state of panic and into one of happiness.

“i did.” he replies, “but now, i couldn’t give a shit how i ask you. as long as i get to do it.”

your eyes never leave his, and his never leave yours. the space between you becomes more obvious the longer you stand at his doorstep, hands by your side in nerves.

jaehyun opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes divert to what’s behind you. or more accurately, who’s behind you.

his smile stiffens as he steps forward, causing you to flinch back as he shuts the door to his dorm behind him and trapping you both outside.

in confusion, you tilt your head. “jaehyun?” you ask, and he gulps, his dimples appearing briefly before disappearing.

he’s silent still, and so you turn your head in the direction of his gaze.

stood at the end of the hall, hands in his pockets is none other than taeyong.

he had followed you here. he had followed you, only to find you with jaehyun.

and he’s livid.

he starts walking forward towards you and jaehyun. almost on instinct, jaehyun steps forward infront of you, a protective arm falling around you.

as taeyong reaches you both, his eyes are directly at yours, although he’s speaking to jaehyun. “why is she here?”

jaehyuns silent for a moment before replying.

“none of your business.”

“it’s all of my business. before she came here she was with me.”

you expect jaehyun to turn to you, ask you what he’s talking about. and you try and form some kind of explaination in your head in advance. but he doesn’t, he doesn’t even falter before defending you, as if he understands everything your thinking.

“and guess where she is now?” jaehyun snaps back.

you’ve never seen him this angry, this serious.

taeyong finally rips his eyes from yours, baring instead into jaehyuns.

“what?” taeyong replies.

“you heard me.”

taeyong takes a step towards jaehyun, and jaehyun attempts to push you behind him.

it’s cliché, them fighting over you, but seeing jaehyun like this..

it’s something you never would have imagined.

yuta was right, he is serious about you.

“leave.” jaehyun says and taeyong looks between you and him, clenching his jaw.

muttering under his breath, taeyong swears at jaehyun before turning and walking away.

you let out a deep breath.

“wow…” you say, “you just..”

“i’m sorry.” he says, “i’m so sorry.”

he looks down at you, the seriousness in his expression gone and replaced with worry and concern. he steps closer to you, pulling your body into a hug, his arms circling around you, one hand holding your head close to him and playing lazily with your hair, his warm fingertips drawing circles all the way down to the nape of your neck.

you’re confused, about your feelings, about his apology. but there’s one thing you’re certain about, you want him here.

you murmur something, and you feel his body stiffen momentarily at the sound before relaxing.

“yn?”

when you don’t reply, he brings his hands to your shoulders so he can see your face, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek so he can properly see you.

you say nothing, wrapped up in the moment, the feeling of his hands on you like they’re never meant to be anywhere else.

“thank you.” he says, “for letting me be able to hold you, for letting me be able to understand you.”

you feel warm, you feel comfort.

he continues when he notices your ease, “you know, this is all i’ve wanted from the start. to be able to have you, like more than before, like more than anyone else. i just want to be the perfect boyfriend for you, yn, i don’t want you to feel wronged because of me, because of anyone, ever again.” he smiles down at you, “so, let me?”

the rush of emotions fleeting through you do nothing but make it harder to respond, not out of fear or worry, but out of the need to make this moment perfect.

but you realise nothing could top this moment, as long as he’s here, asking you this exact question, there’s nothing than could make this moment anything but perfect.

and so you’re honest, you tell him the truth, perhaps for the first time ever.

“yes, jae, ill let you. ill let you as many times as you ask.” you laugh.

he grins at your reply, his eyes searching yours for dishonesty, but when he doesn’t find it, his dimples show.

you watch as his pupils move between your eyes and slowly, down to your lips.

his fingers move from your shoulders, one hand reaching for the soft skin of your chin, gently lifting your face up to his. it’s a gentle motion, but it’s enough to make your stomach flip.

but it’s nothing compared to his next words.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, softly, barely above a whisper.

when you nod, he leans down, lips brushing yours, hand holding your face, moving to, slowly yet instinctively, play with your hair.

but as his other hand creeps around your waist, fingers prodding under the hem of your shirt, you giggle into the kiss and he pulls away, eyebrows furrowed into a look of worry.

“what is it?” he asks, but when he notices you’re outside of his dorm, in the open for anyone passing to see you, he rolls his eyes, leaning over you and reaching behind you for the door handle.

“yuta’s out.” he says, shutting the door and bringing his attention back to you. “its just us.”

his words nearly make you lose balance, and he laughs as he notices you try and processs them.

“not like that!” he says, “i just mean, if you want to talk about how we’re going to do this, you know?”

“what do you mean?”

“yn.” he laughs, “i’m perfectly okay with telling people but, i know you’re not going to be okay with that. and i care more about what you want than anything.”

“oh right,” you sigh. “i’ll be ready at some point, jae, i promise. just.. not now.”

“hey,” he says, “look at me.” you look back at him. “we don’t have to tell anyone, ever, it makes no difference to me. just as long as i get to do this.”

he leans in to kiss you again and, this time, it’s more urgent, like kissing you was the most important thing he’ll ever have to do. slowly his kisses start to make their way down to your neck as he pulls your body closer to his, grinning into the crook of your neck as you sigh quietly.

at that moment, you notice the song playing from jaehyun’s radio. you listen to the lyrics of ‘be that easy’ by sade, your heart reaching through your chest, beating with the warmth of jaehyuns arms around you.

the words from the song reach out to you, playing over and over in your head.

and you believe them as if they’re your own.

‘i’ve nothing to fear.’

mlist — next

notes; writing this was soooosososo satisfying. they’re finally together!!!!! 😇😇😇😇😇😇😇

taglist — open; @https-yeonjun @chenlesfavorite @therealbobbyshloby @f6llsun @jkslvsnella @nanaxwi @cloudmrk @neocrashed @vernonburger @vividwritess @taeeflwrr @mmjhh1998 @cyjzzl @stareaa @minkyuncutie @mrkleelvr @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @slayhaechan @jaeveil @tynlvr @mslora @nosungluv @grassbutneo @dokyriu @girlz4jaem @axo-l0tl @yyangj3lly @solvrse @m1ng1swife @gentlepeach @xiuriii @soobinbunnie5 @tocupid @apolloxxivmin @ctrlstar @gyuguys @tokitosun @i-kai @flamingi @mrkleelvr @en-dream @queenrachelpink @ssweetreveries @swanyvess @flaminghotyourmom @hyuck-me @cryingforjae @hizhu @starfilledgaze

[tastesousweet]

roommate!hamzah x reader . . .

summary: little headcannons i have ab these 2!!! they’re just friends of course (wink)!!

a/n: hiii i’m slowly working on hamzah requests, ty to those who send them in for me <3

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . tends to do his morning routine without a shirt on (grabbing coffee, feeding the cats, sitting on the balcony while responding to texts he’s put off for far too long)

it’s never bothered you because you’re rarely awake early enough to know of it. yet one morning hamzah is mortified by your hook up from the night before, awake and attempting to crack jokes with him as he pours the remaining orange juice into a soft magenta-stained mug that a girlfriend had gifted you last christmas.

hamzah's eyes give a silent glare at both the audacity (of this random man who's decided to parade around the kitchen that is fifty percent his in nothing but those loose boxer shorts!) and out of disgust (he'd unfortunately heard a lot of last night's... action from his room down the hall and he hates that he now has a face to associate with the trauma).

there's a awkward tension that is clearly not reciprocated by the brash and flamboyant guy leaning against the fridge door with a smirk.

hamzah keeps his arms crossed over his own bare chest, stood next to the coffee machine- and for once he’s actually annoyed by the slow frequency of the coffee's stream and the accommodating, overwhelming smell. but he's starting to think it must be your fling’s presence that's causing everything around him to feel a bit violating.

“ummmm….” he’d delay with a deep exhale, unsure how to end a conversation he never asked to begin

the guy would take a long sip of orange juice, “i’m just wondering like, how long have you two lived together? she didn’t even tell me she lived with anyone so— i mean, it’s not everyday you see a girl hot as that living with some guy!" he pauses, "oh…wait, come on man you had to have hit by now…” he babbles on and hamzah stares blankly, stifling a laugh when it comes to the last assumption.

“man, i’m just tryna’ enjoy my breakfast…” hamzah wishes he’d never left his bedroom so early.

the guy nods his head, “yeah…yeah i get that. i should get back to y/n and stuff. she sleeps kinda heavy, huh?”

hamzah nods absentmindedly, sipping his black coffee and making his way out of the kitchen, “guess so…” he stops and looks back at him with a look of slight disgust, “next time at least put some pants on dude, cmon.”

later that day hamzah tells you about it and you laugh so hard you almost fall off of the soft brown couch. “oh my god!!!!” you laugh through your words, “was your masculinity challenged?! did you feel threatened?? maybe he was trying to eye you up- you were practically naked...” you have a grin that makes hamzah subconsciously grin with you, forcing him to overcompensate due to your implications.

"absolutely none of those things?! what the fuck??? no. he was a fuckin' dog, even asked me if we've..." hamzah stutters a bit while gesturing between the two of you.

your face is shocked first as you both silently gesture between the two of you, occasionally making more grotesque and sexual movements to which you both begin to laugh. "no way! that guy has nothing but mush for brains."

hamzah bites his inner cheek harshly, tightening a grip on the circle pillow in his large arm, "yeah..."

you keep your gaze on your fingers fidgeting with the couch before a smirk inches onto your face and your head slowly turns towards hamzah.

it still surprises him how nervous you can make him with something as simple and intriguing as your eye contact, so he flusters up a bit and sputters a soft laugh, "what?" he reaches for the remote on the coffee table to distract himself.

you hum to yourself and pick up a mini twizzler from the small candy dish in the center of the table before plopping yourself down, resting your head on the pillow sat in hamzah's lap.

hamzah attempts to keep his demeanor intact as you snuggle yourself into comfort (so much so, your tiny spaghetti strap on your loose sleep top falls down your shoulder in beautiful imperfection).

you struggle with attempting to unwrap the red candy before hamzah eventually offers to help, "y'want me to do it?"

"please?" you nod and shift to look directly up at him rather than the tv.

"mhm..." he easily uses his teeth to open it, "and i'm taking a piece for my hard work."

"uh huh, sharing is caring"

not only does hamzah feed himself a peel of the twizzler, he holds a piece above your mouth which you take from him with a giggle, "mm, thank you"

hamzah's eyes almost explode when he wakes up a week later to see you making yourself a smoothie clad only in a bra and silky sleep shorts. you'd laugh at him and tell him he's so fragile and he'd claim you're trying to steal his thing while covering his eyes dramatically.

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . you like to play harmless pranks on in good spirits and post on your close friends story , calling it “hamzah hijinks”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . helps you cook or bake whenever you find a new recipe to try out on pinterest— at times they're even filmed and treated as competitions between you and mandy versus hamzah and martin

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . finds it difficult to not have a crush on you when his audience constantly tells him otherwise

there are plenty of shipping posts that come from your appearances and mentions on his channel but from your attitude hamzah's convinced you must not be aware of them or are truly that unbothered by anyone's opinion

clips such as you wiping flour from his cheek to which he joked, “okay stop it now, you know that really ignites my mommy issues”

or when you guest starred on a patreon episode of the podcast, adding small tidbits to the conversation while petting blue and eating a strawberry popsicle. leading hamzah to over reach and pet blue with you randomly, which many fans found cute— like you were a family

or whenever martin would bring you up and hamzah would immediately focus on what he says afterwards— many viewers have concluded he’s obsessed with you

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . now edits his youtube videos in the living room with your legs draped over his shoulders so that you can watch and help him when necessary (but mostly because of your abundantly clear physical love language)

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . thinks it’s really sweet that you can find a piece of him in any and everything without trying

“so i was out…”

hamzah leans his forearms against the island counter with a grin and his headset shifted from his ears (you interrupted his gaming and told him to come see you afterwards but he insisted on pausing for you) “uh huhhh??”

“andddd… i found a cute small shop and guess what they specialize in?!!!!”

“what??!!!”

“custom sonny angels!! so i got one for each of us.” you smile wide, “it’s crazy i just showed them a picture of us and they based the outfits on it. look at them!!!”

hamzah opens the box and finds the two small figures; one garnering his iconic nap queen hoodie and the other in one of your cute red babydoll tops. his mouth is wide for an extra second, “oh my god it’s us as lil’ babies” he laughs, “that’s so fucking cool, how much did you pay for this?”

“don’t worry about that. while i was waiting for them to paint those i also got you this nice green shirt from urban i just like this shade on you.” you held up the shirt and hamzah hugs you gently thanking you again with a short kiss to the top of your head.

“now lemme see what you got for yourself.”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . surprisingly finds you hiding away in the en-suite bathroom during a party you’re both hosting

“i didn’t think you would be in here??” he says while shutting the door behind him and taking a seat next to you on the bathroom floor

“i’m surprised to see you in here i lost you somewhere between martin showing up and that group of girls whisking you away.” you genuinely joke.

hamzah chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “yeah it’s really not like that— i’m really not like that.”

“i know you.” you smile at his oddly nervous face.

“why’d you end up in here?” he sighs and gives your side a soft tap of acknowledgment.

“i thought i just needed to use the bathroom but then i started to find myself way happier alone in here than out there right now.”

“i feel that. i don’t know if half of those people even know this is my house.”

“i know most of them don’t know this is my house.”

hamzah laughs and lets his head hang into the open space of his bent legs, to which you take the opportunity to steal his hat from his head, plopping it on top of yours.

“come on bruh, that was supposed to cover up this mess!” hamzah jokes referring to his wildly curly hair.

“it’s far from a mess hamzah, please.” and when he turns to you, you cradle his head with both hands, scratching softly at his scalp to help revive his hat-hair.

he stares at you kindly, “mm’hold on let me see it,” he gently pulls your hands away and stands to look into the mirror. “oh my god it’s fucking horrid.”

you stand up to defend as if you crafted his hair yourself, “stop it! it looks fine,” you lean onto your tip toes to fluff it a little more, “i like it like this,”

“oh really?” he exaggerates a lift of his eyebrows and manages to catch your eye in the mirror for a second before you look away bashfully.

“hey! don’t get all shy now,” he looks behind him and confidently wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, “it’s okay. i like yours like this,” he smiles and you roll your eyes playfully.

“‘m not gettin’ shy!” you wrap your arms around his lower torso and bury your head in his chest before you pop the question, reaching up to whisper in his ear, “did max bring you more weed??”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . hotboxes your bathroom with you, making sure to bring any snacks from the crowded kitchen for the munchies that will undoubtedly come afterward

this is one of the few times you’ve got a real good look in hamzah’s eyes.

the bathroom reeks of weed and the two of you (mostly you) decided that sitting face to face was far better than side by side. it was silent for a while before you felt the need to speak about his eyes.

“did you know your eyes aren’t black?” you ask.

hamzah shakes his head slowly.

“well they have the tiniest brownie-brown to them but you’d only know if you’re like this close,” you jokingly move close enough to touch your noses together.

hamzah looks over your entire face, realizing he’s never been this physically close to you before. you glance at his lips then to his glossy red eyes.

“you smell like coconut cookies,” hamzah smiles.

you sit back on your calves, across from him with his legs crossed, “i think it’s my shampoo,” you play around with a few strands.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you nod before sitting up again, resting your hands lightly on his thighs to hold yourself up, “do you wanna do something?”

he stares at you for a moment, “like what?”

“do you trust me?” he finds that your eyes glimmer extra when they’ve got that certain puffiness and widened pupil combination.

“yeah, ‘f course, but what are we doinggg?” hamzah drags unseriously.

“just shhh,” you smile and reach for his arm behind him, slowly bringing his cold hand up to your soft cheek. “is that okay?”

hamzah sends a silent nod.

“okay,” you breathe and bring your face closer to his.

hamzah’s mind is so boggled. he can’t believe any of this; he’s completely struck by awe and tangled in your sweet cherry stem of affection. he thinks you’re a special kind of girl; one with an attitude both sexy and innocently loving. so infatuating that he’s realizing he can’t kiss you, not here, not when you’re high and thinking irresponsibly.

not when there’s a chance that you’ll wake up tomorrow and not remember it, or worse ask him to forget about it for your sake.

not when your friendship lies directly on that line.

“mm, yeah we really… shouldn’t…” he takes pauses between his words, it almost physically hurts him to see you that stunned by his words with your face still safe in his palm.

you’re completely flustered and blink your eyes a few times before retreating from his space, “oh… fuck, i’m so sorry that was-”

“it’s not like that- it’s more like, not right now. later?” he scrambles for a response as you’re trying to keep yourself from drowning in embarrassment.

“mhm sure yeah, i’ll be back.” you give a forced smile and leave him alone on the tile floor.

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . you wake up the morning after a house party and find in your bathroom tub with a sharpie mustache above his lip and a pink post it note that read: “GOODNIGHT SUGAR!!! BEST PARTY EVER - Martin :D” written in a barely legible scrawl

[soup-child]

I think the funniest thing Freddie could come back as would be a new car salesman who keeps trying to one up Tony Collette but Tony did not know about them

[gguk-n]

Overtaking Hearts (Kim Seokjin x Lando Norri's Race Engineer!Reader)

Series Masterlist

May was a good month for Y/N for multiple reasons. Reason number 1 being her driver getting his first win of his career with her help and reason number 2 being her boyfriend was being discharged from his mandatory military enlistment next month. She couldn't have asked for a better time.

Y/N had been a race engineer at McLaren for years now, she had always been Lando's main race engineer since he started in Formula One. She took great pride in her work and the fact that her first driver had finally won his first race, called for celebrations.

They were at the club, drinking the night away; enjoying their celebrations. But Lando had this nagging feeling, he knew everyone's attention was on him, he was the man of the hour but Y/N was easily distracted. He saw her excuse herself and leave the room to find a quite place to talk to someone on the phone with a small smile playing on her lips. Lando knew who it was, it was her boyfriend Kim Seokjin. He was currently serving in the South Korean military and was a member of the biggest K-Pop group, BTS. The pair had been dating since Lando started in Formula One or longer, Y/N would never tell, he had made the assumption on the longevity of their relationship.

No one knew she was dating him because of the hate she might get once they find out he's dating someone. The pair were quite people who enjoyed staying home. Lando had found out when he had heard her on call with him and pestered her about it for days before she cracked and told him but made him promise to never tell anyone.

At this point, there was an ongoing joke in the garage that Y/N didn't want to date, so she made up a lie about having a boyfriend since she wouldn't tell who he was nor introduce him to them. But Lando knew and he knew the implications she would have to face if it came out. That's why he hoped, a small evil part of him did anyways, that they would break up. Would this make Lando a bad person? Probably but he was sure he could protect her from all the hate and that they would live happily ever after since Lando had been in love with her since he joined McLaren's junior programme. She had started working there a little while before Lando had joined, so they had bonded together on being newbies and that's how their friendship had blossomed.

Lando was a simple man, he wanted to make Y/N happy and he would do anything to make that happen. He would push himself harder in races to get her to praise him, get her coffee or snacks to hear her thank him after a long day's of work. Lando's world revolved around Y/N but her's revolved around her boyfriend.

When Y/N had told him that her boyfriend would be enlisting, Lando had hoped they would break up. That this would be the final driving force that would force them apart; but he was wrong. They made it work, like they always had. It never affected her work and now the result was there. Lando had won his first race.

Y/N had taken a few days off before the triple header to visit her boyfriend. Lando had tried his best to stop her from leaving, but he had no plausible reason to stop her.

She had come back for the triple header with a skip in her step and an infectious smile. Lando guessed everything was great.

Lando went on to 2 more races after that, he would look for Y/N to celebrate his win but as soon as the formalities and the podium champagne spray were done, she would be gone with her phone attached to her ear. A part of his heart would slowly chip away.

After the Singapore celebrations, was the first time Y/N stayed for longer. Not running away to call her boyfriend. "I thought you'd be gone by now" Lando tried to joke. "yeah, well, he's in Singapore" she said. "Oh" Lando mumbled. "Congratulations again. I know you probably wanna celebrate with your friends but would you be free to have lunch with us?" she asked playing with her fingers. "Us?" he asked. "Yeah, you're my driver and we've won 3 races together. Seokjin was hoping to treat you to a meal as a celebration" she explained. "yeah, sure." Lando sighed. "You don't have to if you don't" she suggested. "No, no, you've helped me so much this season. I would love to join you both" Lando agreed. Lando had to grow up and had to move on.

They had lunch at the hotel Lando was staying at. The place was secluded and they had all the privacy they could ask for. Y/N was sat next to Seokjin her hand holding his as they faced Lando. Lando had greeted him with a hug, he could see why they were together for so long, they blend well together like 2 peas in a pod.

"Congratulations" Seokjin said while they waited for their meal. "My english is not so good, so Y/N will translate some times" he explained. "Oh, no problem." Lando smiled. "She talks a lot about you" Lando laughed. Seokjin smiled awkwardly while Y/N blushed. "She talks about you a lot too, your her favourite driver" Seokjin said. "I'm her only driver" Lando laughed.

As the dinner went on, Lando saw it, the soft touches, the glances and the smiles. He knew than that they loved each other and his little crush was just an infatuation he would have to rid himself off, unless he wanted to lose his talented race engineer.

Y/N and Seokjin walked out of the restaurant hand in hand, smiling and laughing about something the other whispered in each other's ear. Y/N sneaking small kisses against Seokjin's hand, cheek or shoulder; a blush creeping up onto their faces.

Maybe Y/N couldn't tell the world that Seokjin was hers, but she would gladly wait for the day she could, since right now Seokjin was her world and he knew how much she loved him and she knew how much he loved her.

"That was fun" Seokjin said. "I'm glad you had fun" Y/N added. "He reminds me of Jungkook with his childish behaviour" Seokjin thought out loud. "Our dynamic is like yours and Jungkook's, actually" she laughed. "Than he must be a handful" Seokjin smiled. "yeah, but he has a great heart and I'm not sure I can deal with anyone but him at this point" Y/N said. Seokjin smiling pressed a kiss on her lips, "I love you even though we barely get to spend time together" he said. "I love you too and I enjoy the time we have so don't demean it" she smiled back.

[pikahlua]

do you have any headcanons about bakugou you would like to share?

I'm so bad at headcanons. My brain kind of works in reverse in that regard. I'm looking for outputs I can absorb into my head, not how to make inputs XD

Uh, I said something before about how I see an implication in the ending I guess I could elaborate on. I feel like Katsuki has put pursuit of the #1 spot on hold for getting Izuku back in the game, and I feel like this says A LOT about how he views Izuku. It reminds me of the sports festival. Why would Katsuki be interested in pursuing the #1 spot if he can't be compared to everyone else who could compete for it? It's not a true #1 for him then. This means that he believes Izuku is one of the best heroes ever and that Katsuki has no drive to compete if Izuku can't either.

He's such a sap, honestly. He acts like such a tough guy to hide how corny he is deep down inside. ❤️

[phantom-shell]

Relistening to the Magnus Archives (again. It's the 6th time, I believe.) and I keep forgetting how connected everything is, it's such a fun thing to relisten to, in the "hehe I recognize this motherfucker's name, I know what it means now" kind of way. It's so satisfying to understand all the implications.

Anyways, MAG10's statement giver is one of the funniest statement givers in the whole series because up until that point, we get statements from people who witnessed/experienced events so bizarre and scary, it leaves them mentally unwell

but Trevor Herbert over here introduces himself in the most unserious way like "Hi, my name is Trevor Herbert, also known as Trevor the tramp, I'm homeless, I hunt vampires, I can totally guess your age, I might've murdered an innocent man but good luck pressing charges, I have cancer" AND HE JUST KEEPS GOING

Trevor Herbert you will always be famous <3

[lotuseye]

KINKTOBER 2024, B.A.S.

he lyin' to me, i'm lyin' to him, fuck it, guess we both ain't shit! ( murder was the case when you held me down, and i must begin to burn, my heart beats faster! )

satoru gojo. running into each other with the on and off situationship they have managed to keep out of press and on the low in a movie gala they swore they wouldn't be going, holding the hands of people they told the other not to think about. well, well, well- the candle of the liar only burns until dawn, it seems.

word   count:   6,949.

genre:   one-shot, kinktober product.

characters:   movie star! satoru gojo & movie star! reader. a bit of a movie star! kento nanami & movie star! reader and satosugu if you squint lmao. utahime iori, suguru geto, shoko ieiri all make an appearance.

notes:   this was extremely fun to write oh my god lmao. i have decided to dedicate this kinktober to songs that have inspired my stories. nanami and gojo are not getting along the most but they love each other nanami just thinks gojo is annoying and gojo is upset abt it lol. the story contains sneaky links, implication of satosugu, implication of reader x nanami, exhibitionism, public sex, dirty talk, hella use of petnames. it also contains pathetic gojo that happens to be my favorite. has some sort of angst? the good ol situationship questions. likes and reblogs are always appreciated the most, but pls let me know if you like it in the replies! <3 thank you so much for taking the time to read it, see you all next week with my angsty sugu fic teehee

well, well, well. if that is not the apple of the industry’s eye, flashing his alluring grin & sapphires of eyes at the heavy cameras that have been blazing incessantly since the first step he’s taken out of the limo, his name soaring out of every single mouth with the hopes of getting that one good shot the magazines would be fighting tool and nail over. satoru gojo is a brand that never stops selling, and that is as unfortunate as it gets considering how he resembles a heavenly figure more than a mere mortal with the amount of hours he has spent on the makeup & hair chair. she knows how he detests it, how he despises it, the sheer mountain of people that has been pecking his liver & kidneys like goddamn vultures all while showing him their sweetest smiles.

still, she can’t bring herself to be too sad over him - considering he seems pretty pleased with his current status, his large palm pressing against the small of utahime iori’s back, mumbling and tittering. it is quite admirable, in all honesty, the way he leans against her ear with the ease he does knowing if the collar of the silk indigo valentino shirt gives away just a fraction of a moment the utahime would be eye to eye with the hickey she left on the column of his throat just the previous night, a quick escapade in his penthouse - only if it had managed to escape the keen eyes of the makeup artists that were hellbent on ridding him anything that might reveal the big bad secret that he’s just as human as anyone else. probably not. the chances that it was sitting under a coat of green & red color correction & a batch of concealer was too deadly in precision. still, there was a certain satisfaction about thinking the scandalous unraveling. 

“ you ‘kay, love? ” oh, kento. sweet, adoring, doting kento. her vision is replaced with the golden waves that has been straightened and shaped for the night, filling out an armani teal suit with saddle accent that would have cost a lung & an eye for someone else. not for them, though. never for them, not a single item on luxury coming out of their own pocket, brands on their doorsteps just for the slight possibility of seeing their gifted tie or bag on the new issue of magazine papers. optics of it did not stop with the bags or the clothes, either. this very same stance on the carpet with this perfectly manicured, smooth hand on her bare hip & her palm on his chest was completely manufactured like everything else about them. they were each other’s accessories, for the night. they were each other’s marketing. and having had the experience of this PR part of her job turn into an unpleasant chore before, she definitely isn’t complaining about kento. he’s the living embodiment of the concept of a gentleman, and their managements thought they exuded an air of elegance that couldn’t be matched, hence the pairing that has been the face of every single campaign so far. it was a smooth sailing so far, life as candied as honey.

except how satoru had been whining her ear off earlier this week with his cheek pushing up against the fat of her inner thigh, having zero qualms about expressing his disappointment over the fact that kento had been hogging for her so long now with their busy schedule. she had ran her freshly done nails through the white unruly strands, letting them graze the back of his scalp in the way she knew he liked it, until she heard him purr like a tamed tiger. “ don’t start with ken, now, ” her tone held nothing but tenderness in it, but he was smart enough to dig out the friendly warning under it, shifting to rid his calf from the satin duvet he was entangled in. “ you know it’s not like that. besides, i’m calling out of suguru’s gala this week anyway. don’t feel up to it. ” 

“ yeah?” he’s asked, craning his neck aside to glance up at her through his heavy snowy lashes, his fingertips tracing idle circles on her kneecap. “ i don’t think i’ll be going, either. sugu won’t mind, i’ve sent him enough flowers to set a florist for life anyway.”  he had shrugged , turning on his back between her legs, the nape of his neck using her pelvis as a deeply uncomfortable pillow but he didn’t seem to be complaining. “ i jus’ don’t wanna’ see you decorating his arm like a trophy doll, ” he had confessed grumpily. “ shit was fun at first but it’s getting on my nerves, now. ” 

her pout had been devoid of any actual distress, more mocking and satirical than actually concerned. “ aw, is someone jelly?” she’d teased, much to satoru’s discontentment, which ended up in him promising to wipe that smug grin off her face and yanking on her poor ankles to throw her on her tummy, a whole other array of things she had no business remembering when she had cameras flashing through her brain in kento’s arm. 

the way she looked was too fucking delicious for someone that did not feel up to it must have added insult to the injury. at least she feels confident enough to make the assumption, satoru’s piercing gaze burning two holes on her smooth shoulderblades. her palm sweetly pats kento’s chest with the concerned question, answering it a few seconds too late, still not immune to the magical influence satoru seemed to have on her. “ yeah, just saw a friend. ” a friend sounds eerily anticlimactic, when they spent years chasing their own tails, but still - there was a reason it stayed out of the prying hands of the press and disgusting paparazzis, and it wasn’t thanks to telling everybody their business. kento trails her gaze, finding satoru in the crowd & dread contorting his face with recognition. “ oh, he’s here, of course. ” he keeps his disappointment to himself but the grumble cannot be helped. it’s not really hating or even disliking satoru but their personalities were too contrasting to ever let them get along. satoru was too gauche for kento’s taste, and kento was bit too… prudish and holier-than-thou, for satoru’s liking. their wording verbatim, not hers. 

kento leans just a little to hide his mouth in her hair so the cameras wouldn’t capture his mouth for some lip-reading. “ the beauty and the idiot,” he comments and it is so unexpected she can’t help the snort, eyes widening a bit. “ kento!” she slightly jabs him with her elbow, right between the ribs, not harsh enough to hurt but playful enough to let him know it’s just friendly bantering between them with no actual judgment. it had seemed a little unfair to criticize him when satoru spent the better half of the month bitching about him. “ please tell me we don’t need to go say hi. ” 

“ look who’s here, barbie and ken. ” speak of the devil, it seems. satoru drawls out with a lighthearted approach, teasing but she can hear the hidden snicker in the undercurrent, in a frequency only meant for her ears. the sunglasses sit low on the smooth bridge of his nose, dragged even lower with a tilt of his head, to eye them head to toe unabashedly, making sure every single second is visible and seen in the sapphire eyes. “ long time no see, nanamin. can’t even get a hi out of you these days, i’d be thinking you don’t like me if i didn’t know you. ‘ts so rude of you. ” he complains, faux & amused. then, he winks at her. “ i’m forgiving you this time, i’d be distracted too if i had a beauty like that in my arm.” 

“ i’m begging you to get this fucking moron off of me,” utahime smiles through her begging & gritted teeth, still playing nice for the cameras, but the pleading gleam in her eyes is simply too funny and too haunting at the same time. “ i cannot bear him a moment longer. he just does not shut up. ” satoru pouts once more. “ you’re breaking my heart, now, ‘hime. ” they had been paired for their press tour for a while now, the movie being the most anticipated event in the cinema this year- which had been a huge success for satoru, but a source of misery for utahime who had been explicitly vocal about her distaste for satoru among friends and certain colleagues. nothing she would let the press know, but definitely not trying too hard to make people believe that they were actually good friends. she doesn’t blame utahime. satoru has a kind of annoyance to him that would break the back of monks. 

“ hi, satoru. being utahime’s bane of existence per usual?” kento smiles, with no harsh lines or undertone with actual animosity. he doesn’t take satoru seriously enough to harbor such strong feelings, and she thinks it is for the best given the circumstances. “ give her a break now, she’s already stuck with you. ” that would have gotten an eye roll or two out of the golden boy of the industry, however, he flashes a grin that reeks of sinister plans. plans that she is almost certain that involve her & plans she wishes they didn’t, the taste of regret suddenly real on the roof of her mouth before the words even leave his mouth. “ well, i feel generous today. get a pose or two with her, she’s a big shot with versace now, ain’t that right, ‘hime? ” it would have been even sweet of him to hype her up like that, if she wasn’t basically shoving utahime toward kento with an inexplicable sense of urgency. “ you, on the other hand,” he points straight at her. “ need to show that dress off with me, ma’am. it matches the color of my eyes, don’t ya’ think? ” 

that’s how she ends up walking tucked against satoru’s side instead of the comfortable kento, walking away from the cameras to settle in their reserved spots inside. it is almost impossible for them to be seated at the same table, and she knows that’s why he decides to take a nice stroll rather than hurry down the carpet. now the outside noise and exploding flashes tune out a little, dooming them into meaningful and weird silence. “ wear your big boy pants and stop being an ass to utahime,” she says, now without the fear of her mouth being caught by the cameras. “ you could live a hundred lifetimes and still not deserve that woman.  ” 

“ she’s a big girl, she’ll live.” ever the caring, he is. it was hard to get him to care about any feeling that was not his own. an educated failure, she sighs with the usual acceptance. “ and you need to start being an ass to nanamin,” his fingertips slightly press into the side of her ribs, meant to draw her attention and make a point of how he means what he says. “ i thought you weren’t up to it, what happened to that? yuki must be real disappointed she ain’t home clinking wine glasses over a charcuterie board with ya’. ” 

“ and i thought you had sent enough flowers to retire a florist, but you’re still here shinin’ that charming smile of yours, baby.” she beams, because how can she be anything but amused when satoru huffs & puffs like he was not sharing the crime with her? entitlement have made a man so delusional out of him, there was no facet to it that could be processed with care. she slaps his bicep, oversaturated to the point of being atrocious and downright nasty. just as he is, just as he likes it. “ look at us- you’re lyin’ to me, and i’m lyin’ to you. guess we both ain’t shit, then, huh? ” 

he blinks, once, twice, and his hesitation is her delight. “ see you around, beautiful. this barbie needs to find her ken. ” 

and find her ken she did, settled in the oval table that has been reserved for her, sitting between kento and shoko- but the conversations float around her, the phone that keeps buzzing against the small rectangle purse that she keeps tucked against her side a true obstacle to her commitment to the night. suguru will have to forgive her aloofness, there is no focusing when satoru is blowing her phone up from the other end of the room, as the obsessed freak he is. she doesn’t have to see to know that it’s him. nobody else is annoying nor relentless enough to send over dozen texts in the span of fifteen minutes, and unfortunately she is not the only one that has noticed. “ that is one determined motherfucker,” shoko talks through her half opened mouth as she carefully reapplies her lipliner, gaze locked to the tiny pocket mirror she’s fixing the corner of her mouth with. “ either get that or put it on silent before suguru throws a fit, ” she nods over to the real star of the night who seems to be having a heated conversation with the organizers in the corner, hiding behind the greco-roman pillars. “ he’s not exactly having the night of his life right now. ” she grimaces, offering shoko an apologetic glare as she digs into her pocket, fantasies of choking satoru suddenly too visceral.

ok but why do u gotta be like that :/ u told me u’d be home not that its my business but why lie  hellooooo i’m talking to u  is nanamin holding ur hand rn i can’t see from here is he????? pick ur damn phone girl would u be interested to know im bored enough to fuck shit up u’ve got like 5 minutes before i start acting up don’t say i didn’t warn u

jesus christ. with each scroll it gets worse, her head immediately snapping up to see if he is anywhere in her vision and lowering back once again when the answer is negative. her thumbs hover over the keyboard, mind coming to an halt with how shoko or kento could just lean over and see who it was that she was texting. 

shut the fuck up  we’ll talk later

hoping it to be enough, she tucks the phone back into her purse, and when that little read sign underneath her texts appear and the buzzing stops, she takes a deep breath in relief, which is her big hamartia. the grand mistake of assuming satoru gojo capable of being reasonable and sane. 

“ you’ve got a light, sho? ” she hears him quip right behind her, his snowy head popping between her and shoko like an unwanted parasite who has the biggest shit-eating grin plastered on his heavenly face. the moment their eyes meet is truly cinematic, the momentary paralyzing horror etched into her features and the pleasure dripping off his saccharine smile that screams got ya. shoko’s huff is the only thing that reminds her that he indeed has not talked to her, which has to be good enough for her to breathe through her nose and lower the blood pressure that has been spiked out of the roof. “ none for you,” having lost one too many lighters to satoru’s whims, shoko whines. “ you don’t even like smoking, what’d you need a light for?” but still, having already relented to her fate, she digs the orange lighter out of her bag to hand it over. “ i really hope you are enjoying the collection you’ve made out of  ‘em. ” 

“ love ya’ always, ” he bends over with his lanky frame and unbalanced limbs to plaster a wet & sloppy kiss to shoko’s cheek, much to woman’s distaste as she wipes it with a crinkled nose. “ eugh, man. ” satoru has already moved on from the interaction, now having chosen a different victim to his concealed ambitions of the night. “ wanna’ smoke with me? ” he asks but they both know that it is a rhetorical question, a way of him playing nice for the last round before he starts pressing in a dubious way that will get people’s attention. she admits defeat with a nod before gracefully rising out of her chair, notifying kento that she would be back in fifteen before following satoru out toward the balcony. 

“ why do i get the feeling that you’re about to ruin my vibe, ‘toru?” she hums as she kindly takes the cigarette that he offers her from the carton he digs out of the inside pocket of his blazer. “ dunno’, babes. maybe because you’ve ruined mine today when you showed up like that on his arm. ” his shrug is meant to be an indicator of nonchalance but the look in his eyes say different, blazing atop the thick lenses of his sunglasses as the smoke of the first puff oozes out of his nostrils. “ you fuckin’ him? ” 

the thousand dollar question, and she snorts in his face. “ be for real, would you? you’ll get to ask me that the day you stop messing around with suguru. ” her head tips toward the italian style balcony doors that open to the huge ballroom that hosts them tonight, where suguru is stopping by at tables to thank people for coming and yada yada yada. she likes suguru as he is, perhaps even more than she likes satoru- but it gets real hard to keep resentment out of it when he keeps falling into the bedsheets of the man she is unfortunately in love with. what a confession to make, even if it’s internal. “ now that i’m thinking about, i haven’t seen you both in the last hour…” 

“ you know it’s not the same thing. ” he huffs, and she chuckles just for the double-down, just as expected. it would have been a lie to say that it didn’t hurt, to say that her snicker wasn’t laced with disappointment, but it is an educated one. she knows better than to be affected by any of satoru’s antics, too desensitized to it. elbows rested atop the freshly painted maroon railing, her back against the beautiful gardens that reach endlessly underneath them. the small chateau had been shoko’s choice, and it showed with how truly elegant it was. the fact that they were snickering about who was fucking who in a place as magical as this did nothing but to assert how they were no better than one another when it came to their heartstrings. or their egos. she fills her lungs with a long drag, holding it momentarily before a slow release through her half parted mouth. “ fair try, but not good enough. maybe next time, yeah? ” ready to put out the cigarette and head back inside, but the fingers that curl on her bicep seem to have a different idea. 

“ don’t even think about it,” he murmurs, half muffled by her hair as he presses his mouth to the shell of her ear, the undertone of warning running like a shiver down her spine. “ don’t even think about going back to him, i swear i will bend you over this railing right this moment and give them a different kind of movie to watch. ” 

“ are you out of your mind? ” she hisses, startled as she instinctively tries to free her arm from his hold of steel, an air of panic having seeped into her voice with the fact that he was pulling this shit in front of dozens of people in the middle of a gala. satoru doesn’t ease up, in the contrary, she finds herself yanked into the bathroom on their left, her cheekbone colliding with the wooden door in the blink of an eye. she lets out an oof, but before she can feel the pain of it another sentiment swallows her whole- satoru’s chest pressing against her back, squishing her between himself and the door without an ounce of shame. rich amaretto, cedarwood & vanilla. the warm breath that lingers with cigarette smoke and something sweet he probably had been munching on before he lost his appetite with the sight of her and kento. the outline of his chest perfectly snug against her back. there is no surviving the moment, especially not when the cold rings make their first anticipated contact with the nape of her neck, curling fingers brushing her hair away. a simple twist of his wrist, and the bunch he has gathered wraps around his palm as he pulls on it until her breath is knocked out of her lungs with a sting that leaves her reeling. “ not so talkative now, uh? ” he tuts, biting at her jugular without warning. “ cat got your tongue, hun? ” 

“ you’re a freak, ” she pants, having lost all her authority on the situation, just trying to be able to keep breathing through the pain ( and the pleasure ) he holds her hostage with, chewing on the soft tissue of the inside of her cheek. “ somebody will see and we’ll both be screwed, gojo. quit playin’.”

“ let ‘em see, then, baby. ” he quips without a care in the world, sneaking his foot between her ankles to push the pretty heels apart & the empty hand adjusting her waist just so she feels the whole of him when he presses his hips into hers, the strain on his pants lining up with her ass, leaving no margin of error. “ let ‘em watch, even. ” he’s so, so hard, the chances of them walking out of this bathroom together immediately slims down to something like zero. and that is not even including the rosy hue that colors her full cheeks & the panties that are sitting drenched between her legs she’s terrified of him getting his hands on. he’d never let her live it down, god forbid. 

at least these are the concerns that occupy the small part of her brain that remains intact and sane. other and the bigger part is currently debating the chances of their careers surviving them fucking in the bathroom of a villa in a highly exclusive movie gala. it is not looking good, but there is a reason why the sanity is overruled. it doesn’t taste as good as his skin on her tongue, doesn’t feel as good as his fingertips digging into the plush fat of her thighs. his hips roll into hers in a languid motion, and she goes limbless in his arms, mouth parting for a sound that won’t come out. satoru’s laugh is an airy, fleeting, amused thing. “ ooh, look at you, ain’t that cute.” he muses, his nose indenting her cheek. “ say the word and i’ll have you seein’ constellations before you can spell your name, baby. ” 

he wants to torture her like that, of course he does. just so he can come up to her later with all that entitlement and cockiness, with his smug grin, reminding her the one time that she begged him to fuck her senseless in suguru’s gala like the impatient thing she was. the future defeat she can already hear ringing in her ears is a mood spoiler for sure, but her own lack of fortitude catches up with her, the misfortune of being a mere human that isn’t immune to his charm has her resigning without even putting up a fight. “ make it quick, ” she breathes through her nose, unwilling to show any actual enthusiasm, having already giving too much. “ get me off and we’re out of here, understood? ”

satoru chuckles once more, and this time before she can furrow her brows into a displeased stare he roughly grabs the hem of her dress to hike the silk up her hips, bunching it around her waist, pinning her face against the door by the nape of her neck. “ look at you orderin’ me around as if you’re in charge ‘n shit,” he snorts, way more amused than what she feels comfortable with. he cups her ass just to squeeze it & watch the fat of it bunch in his palm with an enamored look. “ as if you’re not gonna’ be drooling on my cock in a minute. you’re a funny girl, did i ever tell you that? ” even the filth he spews out without a second of consideration has her dripping, a secret that is doomed to be unraveled. two fingers slip underneath the waistband of the seamless nude panties, boring for their current escapade but a necessary choice for the dress she had worn. “ mhm, disappointing. no hot pink? ” she rolls her eyes, her frustration growing even more restless by the second. “ left them at kento’s, wanna’ ask for a return? ” she mutters, and only realizes it was a tasteless joke when satoru’s hand tightens on her hair and his palm meets her ass in a reddening pace, leaving her crying out against the door. “ and there goes the head i was thinking about giving ya’, ” he sighs with disappointment, and all she hears next is the clinking sound of the buckle of his belt as he undoes it. “ ‘m sorry pretty thing, ” two fingers rub the apex of her thighs as he talks to her pussy, the first real contact he’s made with her that night, and she can’t help the sigh that escapes her with the momentary relief much needed friction brings her. “ i’ll love on you some other night, i gotta’ put a rude girl in her place. ” 

and by her place he means the front of the mirror, it seems, because he doesn’t waste a single moment bending her over the sink, the cold marble biting at her pelvis & her hipbones, kissing surface bruises onto her skin. her own expression is enough to rattle her, for there is no wonder why satoru thinks he gets to play with her to his heart’s content: she is so fucking pathetic with her glossy eyes and smudged lipstick, it is embarrassing. especially when he’s as contained as he does right behind her, his sunglasses now pushed atop his head to sit there like a headband, the rosy hue on his cheeks bringing some much needed color to his snowy complexion. he’s what she thinks of when one thinks of an angel. well, lucifer, in satoru’s case. 

“ satoru, ” she drawls out, half delirious with the way he yanks her panties down her thighs and grabs one of her knees to push it atop the the pink & gold accented marble. her hands curl at the edges of the counter, pushing back against him as she feels the familiar outline of his cock slide against her weeping entrance, a leisure movement on his side, her panties dangling from the ankle of the leg he propped up on the counter. this is humiliating, and it is intentional- he wants to see how nasty he can get her to be, and his expert knowledge of her ticks & tales is not doing her a favor. “ so wet f’ me,” satoru murmurs in appreciation, but she knows better than to assume anything nice that might come out of his mouth is not aimed at her. his treatment of her and her body are scarily distinct things. “ kento wouldn’t even know what to do with all this, ” he grasps her ass, nudging the fat, leaking tip against her swollen bud with every languid thrust, a coil tightening in her stomach as she succumbs to the pleasure. “ wouldn’t know how to get her talkin’ like this, wouldn’t know how to shut you up like this. ”

not that he did, anyway. kento was a sweetheart, a god-sent man and probably the only man she would let put a ring on her finger without a second thought- balanced, kind, brilliant… the only problem was that, she liked what she liked and what she liked happened to be a foul-mouthed, emotionally immature man who wouldn’t know what commitment was if it hit him in the forehead. but he didn’t need to know all that. so instead of correcting his wrongs, knowing it will do nothing but to feed his already inflated ego, she lets him think what he thinks, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips, the roof of her mouth dry. “ so chatty, ” she exhales, half tired with his antics, feigning disinterest only to rid him of the power he clings to. “ are you going to put that dick to use to-oooooh, fuck! ”

well, that had been sudden. the shift on the angle is subtle but it is enough to make him pop into her with a wet squelch rather than the grinding motion, bullying his way into her without any further prep which is a punishment in its own right- satoru, much to his boasting, is not easy to take and it shows in the way it rids her of her air, stiffening and seizing with the intrusion her poor cunt is trying to decide if it wants to suck in or push out. he has the luxury of not carrying such concerns, letting out a blissful whine and draping himself over her back with his forehead on the crook of her shoulder. “ ooh, she’s missed me, baby, she’s missed me real bad. ” he bottoms out, leaving them both breathless before pulling out just to slam his hips back in.

“ slow, idiot, slow! ” she whimpers with a tremble but it is more of a pleading rather than a scolding and if she can tell, so can he. pleased at seeing the effect he has on her, satoru does what she asks of her- making sure she feels every single inch he feeds her in a painfully slow motion, but keeping each thrust rough enough to slam into that spot he’s memorized inside her. she can’t take it, of course she can’t- no fingers, no mouth, satoru’s set her up for failure. “ aw, can’t take it?” he coos against her ear, condescending & mocking as he pistons his hips in a brutal angle, making her eyes roll to the back of her skull. “ do you whine this much for kento too or are you just bad behaved with me, doll? ” 

he’s not going to let it go, and her patience is wearing thin. “ i was just fucking with you, i haven’t touched him.” she confesses what they both know. he is seeking for the thrill of the revelation, having waiting for the exact moment she is going to crumble and bathe him in praises. “ you know- god, you know i haven’t touched anyone,” she hisses, teeth gritted and face contorted with the amount of effort it is taking her to just to be able to take the relentless bullying of his cock, hitting all the sweet spots in the meanest ways possible. and that was the truth, obvious from the way she’s met her pussydrunk gaze through the now half-fogged mirror. his facade falters for a moment, his hips genuinely slowing down and giving her a much needed respite. she doesn’t take the moment for granted. “ anyone? ” he repeats, unsure if she’s playing him again or not. “ anyone. ” she sighs with defeat, chest heaving, beads of sweat trickling down her calves & bosom. “ i’m not like you, satoru. i can’t play multiples at the same time, i don’t got time for that. ” her insinuation is clear as the day, and satoru is many things but stupid isn’t one of them. the whole situation would have been much, much easier if he was. well, it was their tragedy. 

then, his hips resume their previous task but now lacking the incessant urge to punish- it is all so sweet, the way his hands widen on her hips to hold her close to him, the way his mouth presses wet & loving kisses on the column of her throat, fucking her nice & slow and it feels so, so good she has no choice but to melt in his arms each time the leaking tip of his thick cock massages the spongy spot inside her, having her see stars as promised. “ see how nice i can be when you’re just honest f’ me’, ” he kisses her temple and it feels like love & it feels shameful. “ my baby was just jealous, yeah? ” one hand reaches between them to press his index and middle finger to her clit and rub tight circles in a maddening pace. “ i haven’t touched a single soul since i had a taste of this pretty little thing. could have been bed-hopping but instead i’m fisting my cock at the pictures of you like a horny teenager, ” he grunts a swear under his breath, momentarily distracted with her snug walls gripping onto him, the telltale of her orgasm as she whimpers between him and the sink, watching the pleasure etch itself on his paradise of a face. could that really be true? the truth searching needs to be delayed until she finally gets the release he has been building for her for so long now, teeth digging into her cheek.

“ wanna’ cum,” she grumbles, rutting back into satoru’s cock and fingers shamelessly, chasing her own climax, and he knows that she is wordlessly asking him to finish her off. “ tch, tch. no manners? ” he makes fun of her, cruel. “ give it another try, baby. go ‘head, now. ” she grits her teeth once more. she is so goddamn close it hurts and the fact that tonight ends with her yielding to him, as per many others, feels like an ending she could barely call happy. but it’s not about being happy, when it’s him, when it’s them. it’s about belonging, it’s about her being able to carve & paint him from knuckle to joint, from eyelash to mole if he were to disappear right at this second. it’s about him dreaming of her in the sleepless nights and restless days, finding solace in the warmth of gaze. it’s about something neither of them could ever dare to say out loud, fickle & indecisive. 

“ satoru, please. ” lust isn’t the only emotion that fills her throat when she begs, chest heaving like she’s going to burst or explode, the weight of the unsaid between them bearing between her shoulderblades and all she wants is to dilute into him until she’s in his bones, hidden from the all-seeing eyes all while remaining tucked in his ribs. what comfort it would be, what luxury. his teeth sink into between her shoulder & neck, his fingers roll her clit between his fingers mercilessly, dangling the leash of her orgasm right in front of her while keeping it out of her reach. his empty hand reaches around her, grabbing her by the throat to tilt her head to his liking, so she has no choice but to meet his eyes through the mirror. the look in them is haunting. “ say you’re mine, ” it is animalistic, and vulnerable at the same time. “ say it. say you’re fucking mine. ” 

“ yours, yours, yours! ” her cries are most definitely audible from the outside, the years of their hard work of keeping their business under thick covers now having crumbled like paper towers because of something as stupid as insecurity & jealousy as everything else but satoru fades away for her. she’s never felt as alive, or as real as she did with him- he’s shown her undiscovered colors she didn’t even know existed and still, he is the only man who can make her hear hymns in her eardrums when he finally pushes her off that edge and catches her at the same time. “ cum for me, ” every single syllable is punctuated, and she is quivering around him impossibly, her climax cascading down her like an earthquake, a fever spreading from head to toe. for a split second, her feet’s not touching the ground, a dull ringing in her ears that blocks out every single sound, seeing nothing but white. it’s euphoric, it’s something that transcends anything she’s ever called pleasure before. 

he’s not far behind her, unable to resist the tight pulsating of her snug walls, burying himself to the hilt before she’s even done riding her high out and twitching painfully, painting her insides white with a trembling moan, hot & sticky & so fucking much. there is no denying the tenderness as they hold each other through it, leisure mouthings and heavy breathings, skin slick with sweat and designer clothes ruined, alongside their precise makeup. all masks undone, they are basking in the afterglow of it without a single word muttered as humanly possible. their world is painfully small now, reduced to one another, clinging to the warmth like moths to sun.

the coming down is quiet, unlike the anticipation of lust. it is subtle, hidden in the slow wrap of his gentle fingers around her knee to lower it back onto the ground with a breathless “ i know, baby, i know, ” when she whimpers with how stiff and cramped her leg is, letting him rub it all better. this is familiar, the aftermath of it. how her head tips back on his shoulder with eyes fluttered shut & how he holds her close, trying to regulate his breathing with his face nuzzled on the crook of her neck. 

this is all familiar, but the silence that engulfs them is eerie. usually the event goes as satoru boasting about how good he was and how amazing it felt and then pouting at being told out of her bed, with an excuse she draws about having something important to do. well, keeping satoru at an arm’s length to avoid falling for a man that would not give her the sappy romantic she’d always hoped for one day could be considered an important task on its own. the only minor hiccup was that she had failed and she had failed grandly, at that. suddenly, the relief & the dopamine rush slowly withdraw from her blood, letting shame & guilt fill their shoes. “ why are you always lying to me? ” satoru asks with a genuinely disappointed, exasperated sigh. “ i know i’m not the best with picking up on cues and stuff, i can’t tell if i’ve done something to hurt you. is that why you won’t let me stay in your bed? is that why you’re leavin’ me as soon as you’re done? ” 

it is audible, the way her heart shatters and each shrapnel a bullet on its very own. a momentary hitch in her throat, and she freezes in that perfectly broken moment. she had told him to wear his big boy pants just an hour or two ago, but the way she is resisting the responsibility herself just proves how big of a hypocrite she is. she should be facing him, she should look him in the eye and tell the truth. but she doesn’t harbor that kind of power, doesn’t harbor the kind of openness that allows her to show someone a piece of her core and have it be not wanted. so, her eyes remain shut, the bridge of her nose against his jugular. she can’t do this any other way. “ because it’s the only way this exists, ‘toru. ” there is sympathy laced in the bittersweet acceptance in her voice. “ with us chasing our own tails. ” it’s raw, it’s honest- and it is perhaps the realest thing she’s said to him in the five years she’s known him. five whole years, passing them by like leaves in the seasons. five whole years that she’s loved him incessantly, inexorably. finally having the courage to turn in his arms a little, with the relics of the pink hue on her cheeks, the brown mascara having smudged in the corner of almond eyes. and he’s there as he always is, frozen in time to be eternally beautiful and eternally devoid of any color. “ look me in the eye and tell me you’d want me the same way if you had me.” 

the silence itself is an answer, and probably the only answer she’s ever getting. a sigh, mostly relieved more than anything else, with the aspect of being done with this as she leans down to grab her panties from her ankle, sliding them back up her thighs, trying not to feel her world collapse on her as the fact that she is unwanted by the only man she’s ever really loved with his cum dripping down her thigh stares at her like a sick joke. she’s so glad she has turned her back on the mirror, now. as she’s busy trying to pretend like it did not rattle her and go on with getting herself together, she doesn’t see the way satoru is looking at her with absolute disbelief. “ i can’t tell if that’s the lack of trust in you or in me, but either way, that’s the craziest thing i’ve heard you say. ” he sighs, disappointed and she can’t tell if that is meant for him or her. “ you think i’ve been pleadin’ at your door like a pussy-whipped highschool kid because you’re some unattainable fantasy? this isn’t the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. ” he snorts, shaky but genuinely amused and baffled at the same time. “ hate to rain on your parade, but you’re too much of a bully to be my manic pixie dream girl. i’ve been on this train for five years because i happen to love you, you little freak. no more reasons underneath that. this ain’t a movie. ” 

he just stands there, with his toothy grin that is a bit too pleased with himself, and she is standing there responseless like a car with its blinkers on. 

this is not how she thought she’d ever get a love confession.

“ you fucking idiots! ” shoko’s groan at the other side of the door bursts their bubble, and both pairs of eyes turn to the wooden door in the instant that her heavy fist pounds on it with a thud. “ the walls aren’t that thin! ”

[galactic-rhea]

Tbh clone wars has some really "wow they went THERE" moments when it comes to sex stuff.

There are several moments where the show just shows literal sexual harassment or asult and just... brushes it off, Padme, Ahsoka, even Anakin are victim to this (unwanted kisses being the most common, but If I remember correctly some death watch guy smacks Ahsoka on the butt once)

Also Ahsoka gets almost sex trafficked(???) A few times. Like what was the implication soposed to be with the Zygerrian arc, or when Hondo tries to sell her?

At least with Hondo we can assume he mightve just been trying to sell her to the separatists but also... dude wtf?

There's also several instances where the clone wars show tweets woman in a... yikes way, some just seems fairly realistic for a war (the Ryloth dancers, the clones having pin up posters, a few comments here and there)

Idk where I'm going with this but long story short: I agree with you on that clone wars arc, Anakin felt so out of charecter and I almost always hate jealous boyfriend arcs becuase they're so often ooc and kinda sexist???

Oh, agreed, they really did. I think partially a lot of that has to do with the fact it was done in an era where...that sort of stuff was way more common in shows, lol

With the Death Watch thing, it was Bo-Katan who smacked Ahsoka's butt. And after she said she was engaged to Lux, not less. It's funny if you try to not think too hard about it 😭 I guess is more acceptable if isn't a guy the one doign it,,,,in Cartoon Network standards, i suppose.

Also yeah, I have a strong distaste with Ahsoka's treatement during the Zigerrian arc, like truly awful, and truly a bad look on Anakin, Obi-Wan, and anyone who agreed with it (and it doesn't help that Anakin's actitude was so...cocky, sure, dude, whatever). The Zigarrian arc is such a weird case because in one hand I'm all for inflicting more trauma and whump onto Anakin,,,,on the other, his actitude and total disregard of Ahsoka's safety is extremely frustrating (you could argue neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin really expected the plan to go wrong in any way, still very bad, not good guys). Then again, if I recall, the plan wasn't quite their idea at all, and in the comics Anakin is way less confident about it, and Ahsoka was the one insisting in going, but yeah, yeah, just another case of weird writting wiwth mixed results.

But yeah, it was the episode with Hondo capturing her that reeaaaally made me go "was that necessary", it can be very messed up, and is true that it's barely aknowledged. I suppose the difference with the Clovis arc, is that in that episode they do make more clear that it's wrong, they just don't allow Padmé to have any agency about it, it was just used to make Anakin jealous.

Overall: I think I have said it before, but TCW main problem is that it tackles stuff on a very surface level due being short-episodes, with one-time plots, and being a kids show. So the characters aren't allowed to react too much about their messed up circumstances. Almost everything is always reseted after an arc ends. Anakin isn't allowed have moments of reflection or to show how things can be affecting him on a deeper level. And the same can be argued with other characters.

Sadly all those instances with Ahsoka are treated like jokes. And all the very unsubtle implications of Anakin being assaulted in the Zigerrian arc isn't dealt with beyond having Anakin consider whatever slavist nonsense the queen tells him. While other things, just like you said with the dancers, does make the world seem a bit bigger and more deep, as messed up as it can be.

[shoechoe]

personally i always find that while angst is present in most of my favorite things and is super popular to delve into when it comes to things like fanfic for obvious reasons, it doesn't really work in an original story when like, more than half of the character's time is just spent wallowing in it.

and idk, whenever i see people constantly talking about how much Trauma:tm: their OCs and favorite characters all have in place of actually talking about what they're like as characters it has this distinct immature tinge to it. It makes it hard to care about a character's struggles when you're introduced to them as "struggling all the time"

i guess that's one thing i've always found very interesting about diavolo in a way. there is a lot about him that is or implies really fucked up shit and things that would have potential for angst, but the story gives it all absolutely zero focus in favor of focusing on his intimidation and how he hurts people.

on one hand it's frustrating and simply a part of him being underdeveloped + araki not actually caring about the implications of giving a character shit like DID and just wanting the Split Personality antics, but God, it made me so interested in him yknow

[dingodad]

so i was loosely correct about the two nepeta problem being used as an analogy for the two vriska problem. there even seems to be direct implication that sprites "go somewhere" when they realise they're no longer relevant, so it seems we are in fact heading in a direction where one of the two vriskas is gonna have to disappear forever.

the course-correction in tone over these last two chapters no longer gives me any reason to anticipate a dramatic bait-and-switch where our vriska is the one who gets sacrificed, but i guess there's still some potential drama to be milked from vriska having to "pocket" lil (vriska) forever in order to escape purgatory. or else we're heading in a more straightforward Ultimate Vriska direction, and one vriska disappearing means the two vriskas finally rejoin? which could still be a pretty dramatic sacrifice i guess.

this is all assuming there's still more of the story to tell. page 666 has already skipped over a lot, so it's entirely plausible this is where the page ends, but i have some inklings that there's a little bit more to come. the briefness of both chapter X and chapter 6 leads me to believe we're being fucked with a little bit by monthly updates being split into bimonthlies (as has happened before); chapter X ends with a "haha wouldn't it be funny if vriska was in here for another 4 years" setup which chapter 6 fails to follow through on, so it would make sense for those to have been conceived as part of one longer chapter, after which vriska spends a further 4 years figuring out how to make amends with (vriska).

since chapter 6 ends in a complete restart of the loop, maybe vriska has to redo a couple of chapters a different way to earn the true ending? this would be a good payoff for the time loop gimmick that hasn't really reared its head since the first chapter, and it's kind of the only way the chapter 4 -> X -> 6 numbering scheme makes any sense: vriska is still yet to unlock the "real" chapter 5 (which is hopefully one where davepeta actually pulls their weight). if page 666 has actually been working its way up to something, then one last slightly longer update that revisits each of / some of the previous chapters in a new light makes sense as a finale, especially given the symbolic ramifications of the 8-ball.

but again, that's all assuming this isn't just the end of it. vriska finally confronting The Parenthetical Vriska feels like a culmination of an idea that's been germinating since page 666 begun - maybe vriska needs to learn to be okay with not being involved in the story for a little bit? and the thing is that by now i am very much starting to sympathise with the people who feel like page 666 has gone on forever. spending some time away from the plot point while vriska deals with the rest of her shit off-screen would be a truly welcome change. i think i'd just be able to handle it if we got one more update that made all the issues with this update suddenly make sense, but i just am not prepared for another month+ of this damn flash i'm sorry

[charliedawn]

Hello! Just a small Idea or imagine, feel free to ignore if you wish

Anywho, my imagination was: imagine the nurse, right? But she/he/they have an inhumane soul. Like let's say everyone has certain souls but the nurse had a very old one (maybe has the soul of a fallen angel or something sent to Earth to live normally?) that's gone through years and years of rebirths. But WAIT, There's more. Let's say in their past lives, they've been killed by the slashers before. Maybe penny or pennywise ate them in a past life as they were a child, or Michael had killed them as a bystander. I know Penny and Pennywise would probably find out without help due to them being- well, them. But maybe what if the nurse could tap into the past lives and that's how the rest of the slashers found out? Or whatever you want, I just thought it'd be super cool :]

(It actually made me think about a previous request so I decided to keep the concept.)

The old, dusty photo album lay open, the sepia-toned images flickering with memories of a time long past. As the slashers gathered around, curiosity piqued.

Freddy Krueger

Freddy flipped through the pages of the old photo album, his usual mocking smirk plastered on his face. But as he landed on a particular picture, the smirk faltered, his brow furrowing slightly. His gloved fingers hovered over the photograph of your doppelgänger—a face eerily familiar, one he knew all too well.

"Well, well, well," Freddy muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice low and sinister. "Would ya look at that ?"

He lingered on the image for a moment longer than usual, eyes narrowing. He knew exactly where he’d seen that face before—he’d killed you once. Or rather, killed someone who looked just like you. Memories of a past nightmare flickered in his mind, the thrill of the hunt, the screams, the sweet satisfaction of victory. But now, here you were again, alive, standing beside him, completely unaware of the dark history between you.

Freddy chuckled, a sound that was anything but reassuring. He glanced sideways at you, his tone dripping with teasing malice. "Hey sweetheart, come take a look. Doesn’t this one look an awful lot like you ?"

You moved closer, peering at the picture, oblivious to the tension radiating from Freddy. You smiled lightly, brushing it off. "Yeah, people say that a lot. That’s the founder of St Louis. Charlie Johnson. Guess I’ve got one of those faces."

Freddy's grin returned, but it was strained, like he was trying to keep up his usual bravado. He wasn’t going to tell you the truth—not now. It was too soon, and besides, he wasn’t ready to deal with the implications of it all. He didn’t do remorse—not his style.

Still, something was gnawing at him as he stared at your calm expression. Maybe it was the realization that the person in that photo, the one he had killed, was the reason he was stuck in this place now. The reason he had met the others, the reason behind his strange new life in St. Louis. It wasn’t just a coincidence; it was some twisted cosmic joke, and for once, Freddy wasn’t laughing.

He cleared his throat, shaking off the momentary flicker of guilt—whatever that was. "Yeah, guess you got a face that stands out, huh ?" he said, his voice light but with a trace of something darker beneath.

You tilted your head, noticing how uncharacteristically quiet he was being. Freddy—silent ? That was new. "You okay ?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Freddy snapped back into his usual cocky demeanor, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Pfft, me ? I’m always okay, doll. Just thinkin' how funny life can be, ya know ?"

You chuckled, not fully understanding what he meant, but letting it go. Freddy leaned back, eyes still flicking between you and the photo, that unsettling smile never quite leaving his face. As you walked away, Freddy stared at the photo one last time, his expression hardening. You frowned as you found it weird that Freddy would suddenly fall silent—him who normally couldn’t stop yapping. You looked up and your eyes widened as you saw the expression of Freddy’s face. You had never seem him do that face before. Ever.

"Nursy…I am sorry." He finally said.

Your eyes widened.

Had he just…? You chuckled nervously.

"For what ? What did you do this time, Freddy ?" You joked and he smiled back. Yeah. That would be the talk for another time.

Michael Myers

As Michael studied the photo, he clenched his jaw, clearly deep in thought. You noticed the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes darted between the picture and you. It was almost as if he was trying to decipher a puzzle, each piece leading to a darker understanding.

You must have understood his worry.

You took a step closer, sensing his agitation. "Hey, it’s just a picture. It doesn’t mean anything bad will happen this time, right ?"

This time…

You knew. Maybe you had always known. He quickly pulled out his notebook and scribbled furiously, his handwriting neat but hurried. He turned it toward you, the message clear : What if it is a sign ? What if you are in danger ?

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. "Michael, you worry too much. This was a long time ago, okay ? You changed."

He didn’t smile. Instead, he pointed to the picture again, his finger hovering over your doppelgänger's face. He then wrote down: Look at her. Look at the eyes. There’s something wrong. They are staring at me…They know. You were afraid and I killed you. I killed, Y/N.

You followed his gaze, feeling a chill creep down your spine. "I don’t see it. It’s just a face. It’s not like they’re—"

He interrupted you by flipping the notebook back to the last page, where he had written, People die when they’re connected to me.

The weight of his words sank in, and you felt a pang of sympathy for him. "Michael, I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me, okay ?"

He sighed, visibly conflicted. He picked up the pencil again, writing slowly this time. Promise ?

You nodded, your heart racing a bit. "I promise. It won’t happen again. You are changed. I have changed. The old Y/N doesn’t exist anymore."

He looked at you, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of relief in his eyes. But, also concern. Michael knew that it was only a matter of time before his bloody impulses would come back and then…And then…

He pulled you into a hug.

No. Not this time…Please. Not this time.

Jason Voorhees

Jason's brow furrowed as he studied the photo, the resemblance was striking and his smile faltered. It was as if the image stirred a long-buried memory, igniting feelings he had tried to suppress. The likeness was a ghost, haunting him with the weight of what he had done. He shook his head, trying to banish the dark thoughts that crept in. He remembered that fateful day—the fear in your eyes as he had pulled you underwater, the struggle for breath as he had mercilessly held you under water until no bubbles could be seen. The guilt clawed at him, a weight he could never fully escape. He stepped closer to you, the intensity of his gaze unwavering.

"Jason ?" you asked softly, searching for the man behind the mask. He remained silent, but in that moment, he resolved to change the narrative of his past. Without warning, he moved towards you, closing the distance with a firm but gentle grip. He enveloped you in an embrace, pulling you against him as if trying to save you—to keep you with him. You could feel the tension in his muscles, but slowly it began to ease as he held you. It was a silent plea, an unspoken promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. His breath was steady, yet beneath it lay an undercurrent of fear—fear of losing you, fear of his own past mistake.

"Jason…" you whispered, resting your head against his chest.

He released you slowly, his eyes still fixed on yours, conveying everything he couldn’t say. The flicker of concern remained, a promise that echoed louder than words ever could. Jason would fight fiercely to protect you, even from the shadows of his own history.

Pennywise and Penny

Pennywise cackled, his yellowed teeth gleaming under the dim light as his eyes glinted with twisted amusement. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving the photo, where your doppelgänger stared back, frozen in time. "Reincarnation is a funny thing, isn’t it ?" His voice was a blend of mockery and intrigue, as though the very idea delighted him. "I wonder what you tasted like back then," he mused, savoring the thought like a long-lost memory. He didn’t remember all of his victims, but he sometimes had sparks of how they tasted.

By looking at the picture, he could feel the delicious taste of fear your past self. He then wondered if you were to be afraid now, would you come to taste the same ? You tensed at his words. His eyes lingered on you, and for a brief moment, you couldn’t tell if he was remembering or imagining the flavor of your soul, trapped in another body from a past life.

Penny, standing beside him, tilted his head curiously, always fascinated by his older brother’s musings, though never quite grasping the full depth of them. "Do you think they taste the same now ?" Penny asked, his voice light and filled with false innocent curiosity, as if discussing a favorite meal rather than the horrors that lurked beneath that very question. Penny couldn’t possibly comprehend the horror of realising that you had been killed by the Penny Brothers—your own patients—in another life…

Pennywise’s smile widened, sharp and predatory. "Oh, I wouldn’t doubt it," he purred, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to you, inspecting you like a hunter eyeing prey. "The past has a funny way of repeating itself, doesn’t it ?" His voice dropped to a low, taunting whisper. "Maybe we’ve danced this dance before, sugar. Maybe you screamed my name, and I...enjoyed every second of it."

Penny giggled beside him, blissfully unaware of the darker implications of the discovery. He was entertained by the idea, like a child hearing a ghost story for the first time. "If we met before, does that mean we were friends back then too ?" Penny asked with a wide grin, his eyes wide and shining with a kind of uncomfortable naive excitement. You shivered. You hoped you hadn’t been…because that would mean that…even though you used to be friends, they had still eaten you—their instincts had still taken over.

Pennywise shot his brother a sideways glance, the smirk fading for just a second, a flicker of something more sinister passing through his features. "Friends ? Sure, lil’ bro. I am sure we were real close," he drawled, his voice laced with irony as he turned his attention back to you, watching for your reaction.

You felt the weight of his words, the cold, lingering tension in the air. Penny’s innocent question hung between you, but there was no escaping the darker truth that Pennywise reveled in—the possibility that you had crossed paths before, in a different life, and that they had already taken something from you once. And maybe, just maybe, they would do it again.

"Funny how history repeats itself," Pennywise muttered under his breath, his grin growing wider as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his breath. "I guess we’ll just have to see if this time, it ends any differently."

You closed your eyes. How cruel…But you had been expecting it. The fact that the Penny Brothers had decided to spare you didn’t mean squat. They could get hungry at any moment and decide that you weren’t worth the trouble anymore…And that. That did scare you.

Chucky

Chucky chuckled, the light from the photo album reflecting off his mischievous eyes. His small, plastic fingers traced the outline of your doppelgänger in the picture. "Well, well, well, would you look at that ?" he muttered with a grin that was far too wide for comfort. "Looks like I’ve met you before."

He turned toward you, eyes glinting with something wicked. "You recognize ‘em? Nah, of course you don’t." His voice took on a teasing, almost playful tone, but there was an edge to it that sent a chill down your spine. "Bet you didn’t know I already took care of you once. Guess you’re back for round two, huh ?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool despite the strange tension in the room. "What do you mean, Chucky ?"

He snorted, rolling his eyes as if it was obvious. "Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. This ain’t my first rodeo, and it sure as hell ain’t yours either. See that ?" He jabbed a finger at the picture again. "That’s you. Or, well, it was you. Before I did what I do best."

You stared at the photo, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at the back of your mind. It was unsettling how much the person in the picture resembled you, almost like a mirror from a past you couldn’t remember. Chucky’s voice broke your thoughts.

"I didn’t know then, but something tells me we’re not done. Not by a long shot," he said, his voice low and dripping with amusement. He let out a sharp, maniacal laugh, stepping closer. "What do you think ? You wanna do this the easy way, or we gonna have some fun like last time ?"

He was enjoying this far too much, but there was something beneath his bravado—something darker. He wasn’t just messing with you. There was recognition in his eyes, a hint of unease mixed with the usual bravado. He could remember your screams, your fear—and he enjoyed it.

You took a step back, trying to shake off the creeping feeling of dread. "You’re full of it, Chucky. It’s just a picture." You tried to reason.

He smirked, shaking his head. "Maybe. But you do feel it, don’t ya ? That little tingle in your spine ? That’s the past comin’ back to haunt ya, baby. And you and me ? We’ve got unfinished business." He leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "You can feel it. In your bones. You know me."

His laughter filled the room, that familiar, high-pitched cackle echoing in your ears. Even as you tried to brush it off, a tiny voice in the back of your mind wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was truth in his words. Chucky left and your eyes fell back on the picture. You swallowed uneasily before turning around to leave…

Brahms

Brahms sat in the garden, staring at an old photo album with a deep sense of unease. His hands shook slightly as he flipped through the pages, his breath catching in his throat when he finally saw it—you. Your doppelgänger stared back at him from the photograph, the same gentle eyes, the same smile, just like he remembered. His heart tightened, and a wave of guilt washed over him. You had no idea, did you ? You were unaware that once upon a time you used to be his nanny and that once upon a time…he had killed you. He swallowed hard, gripping the edges of the book. For a long moment, he just sat there, unable to tear his gaze away from the picture. His mind raced with memories, flashes of the past he had tried so desperately to bury. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you—not then, not now. But he had, and now here you were, back in his life, completely unaware of the darkness that connected you both.

You entered the garden and noticed him, sitting there with his hands trembling ever so slightly. "Brahms ?" you asked softly, stepping closer. "Is everything alright ?"

He didn’t answer, couldn’t find the words. Instead, he glanced up at you with a look of such sorrow and regret that it made your heart ache. You frowned, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

"Brahms ? What’s wrong ?"

Brahms carefully closed the album, hiding the photograph from view. He stood, his tall figure looming over you, but his movements were slow, deliberate. He didn’t look at you, instead lowering his head in shame. For a moment, you thought he might walk away, but then, to your surprise, he gently wrapped his arms around you. His embrace was hesitant, almost as if he was afraid to touch you, but there was a desperation in the way he held you, like he was trying to protect you from something you couldn’t see. He buried his face in your shoulder, the porcelain mask he wore hiding the expression. You froze for a second, taken aback by the sudden affection, but then you relaxed into his embrace, your hands slowly coming up to rest on his back.

"Hey, it’s okay," you whispered, even though you weren’t sure what was wrong with him. "You’re safe, Brahms. I am here."

Brahms tightened his hold, his body trembling slightly. He couldn’t tell you—not now. How could he ? How could he explain that once, in another time, in another life, he had hurt you in ways that could never be forgiven ? He had been a different person then, consumed by fear, anger, and madness. But now ? Now he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you again, couldn’t bear the weight of that guilt crushing him.

In his mind, he was reliving that terrible moment—the moment he had wrapped his hand around your neck. The moment he had watched the life drain from your eyes. And now, holding you close, he was trying to save you from that day, from the monster he had been.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, though the words were barely audible, muffled against your shoulder. He repeated it in his head, over and over, the weight of it suffocating him.

You stroked his back gently, not knowing the full extent of his turmoil but feeling the depth of his remorse. "It’s okay, Brahms. Whatever it is, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out together. I promise."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his mask still concealing his face, but you could see it in his eyes—the pain, the regret. He gently shook his head, as if trying to tell you that it wasn’t okay, that it could never be okay. But for now, you didn’t press him. You just stayed there, wrapped in his arms, offering him the quiet comfort he so desperately needed, even if you didn’t fully understand why.

Bo and Vincent:

Bo stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the old grey wall of the garage, his ever-present smirk fading as he glanced at the photograph Vincent had uncovered. The resemblance was uncanny—you, staring back at him from the past, though dressed in clothes from a different era and fear in your eyes…Bo felt a strange unease bubbling up inside him, a rare crack in his confident facade. He chewed on his lip, looking over at his brother, who was holding the photograph carefully, as if it were fragile, like the truth it carried.

Vincent hadn’t said a word—he never did. But Bo could see it in the way his twin’s fingers trembled slightly, in the way his usually stoic eyes flickered with some deeper, hidden emotion. Vincent felt it too—the weight of recognition, the unsettling realization that they had seen you before, lived through this before.

"Well, ain’t this somethin’," Bo finally drawled, pushing himself off the wall and sauntering over to where Vincent stood. He took the picture from his brother’s hands, studying it closer, though the easy grin didn’t return. "Looks like we got a second shot at this, huh ?"

They failed to hear you enter the garage. "What’s that ?" you asked, stepping closer to see the picture. Bo, always quick to shield you from what he didn’t want you to know, swiftly tucked the photo behind his back with a playful smirk.

"Nothin’ important, darlin’. Just some old memories," he said, his Southern accent dripping with that charming, almost teasing tone he always used when he was trying to hide something. But there was something off in his eyes, something he was trying to hide.

Vincent, on the other hand, stood motionless, his masked face turned toward you, his breathing slow but deliberate. You could feel his eyes on you from behind the wax mask, studying you in a way that made you wonder if he was seeing someone else when he looked at you.

"Can I see it ?" you asked softly, sensing the shift in the room.

Bo hesitated for a second too long, which was unusual for him. Normally, he’d have some smart comment or distraction ready, but now, he just stood there, one hand gripping the photograph tightly behind his back. Vincent’s gaze never left you. Finally, Bo sighed, his easygoing demeanor slipping just a little. "I reckon you can, but it might spook ya a bit." He handed the photograph to you, his eyes watching your face closely as you took it.

You looked down at the old, faded image. The person in the picture—someone from the past, yet they looked exactly like you. Same eyes, same face, as if you were staring at your own reflection in another lifetime.

"Is this…?" you began, but Bo cut you off.

"Yeah, looks like someone you look like someone from way back. Someone who mighta met a nasty end, if I remember right." He chuckled, but there was no real humor in it. "Small world, huh ?"

Vincent, still silent, took a step closer. His hand reached out slowly, and you watched as he gently touched the edge of the photograph in your hands, his fingers lingering there as if he could feel the weight of the past pressing down on him. You looked into his eyes, searching for some answer, but all you found was a deep, aching sorrow.

Bo noticed the exchange and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Don’t pay too much mind to it, a’right ? We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. No need to go diggin’ up old graves."

But Vincent remained close, his presence heavy and filled with unspoken remorse. You could feel it—he wasn’t just looking at the person in the photo. He was looking at you, really looking, as if he were remembering something he couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was something deeper, but whatever it was, it made your heart ache.

"Vincent," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s okay. I am not mad at you. It is all in the past."

His head tilted slightly, the ever-present mask obscuring his features, but you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. It was rare for Vincent to show affection like this, but in this moment, it felt like he was trying to atone for something, to shield you from a past you couldn’t remember but he could never forget.

Bo watched the two of you for a moment, his expression softening just a little. He may have been rough around the edges, but even he could understand that they had both grown attached to you. Bo sighed again and shook his head.

"Y’all are a couple of saps, you know that ?" he muttered, but there was a fondness in his voice. He turned his back to you both, giving you a moment of privacy. Vincent held you for a little longer, his embrace a silent apology for something you would never fully understand. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. You were here, in the present, and that was all that counted.

You ended up up forcefully pulling Bo into the hug before whispering.

"It’s okay…I forgive you. I forgive you."

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 29th

Long one today, but Quincey’s here, so everything is right in the world. ❤️

First of, the boys are going grave-robbing as a gang! 🎉

"The more we talked, the more puzzled we got, till now I can say for myself that I'm about up a tree as to any meaning about anything."

"Me too," said Quincey Morris laconically.

"Oh," said the Professor, "then you are nearer the beginning, both of you, than friend John here, who has to go a long way back before he can even get so far as to begin."

GDHSKSKSKS THE BURN. Completely gratuitous too, John hasn’t even spoken yet.

Therefore may I ask that you promise me in the dark, so that afterwards, though you may be angry with me for a time—I must not disguise from myself the possibility that such may be—you shall not blame yourselves for anything."

🥺

"That's frank anyhow," broke in Quincey. "I'll answer for the Professor. I don't quite see his drift, but I swear he's honest; and that's good enough for me."

[Sigh] ❤️

"Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?" said Van Helsing. "And then you will at least know the limit of my purpose. Shall I go on?"

"That's fair enough," broke in Morris.

Spoken like a man who immediately thought VAMPIRES after eavesdropping for two minutes and a half ❤️

"There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part. Believe me, we are now on the verge of one. But I have not done. May I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy?"

I love the way he asks like a kitten eyeing your food. I can has head of dead (<- important precision) Miss Lucy? 🥺

His voice broke a little, and he went on with a voice full of pity:—

"But, I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a long life of acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which sometimes did wring my heart, I have never had so heavy a task as now."

Day I-don’t-know-how-many of asking for Van Helsing’s backstory

"For her—I am ashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness—I gave what you gave; the blood of my veins; I gave it, I, who was not, like you, her lover, but only her physician and her friend. I gave to her my nights and days—before death, after death; and if my death can do her good even now, when she is the dead Un-Dead, she shall have it freely."

Ok, let’s pause here for a second. I understand why so many authors directors artists etc. have developed an erotic fascination for vampirism. I see the themes, you see the themes, we nod in understanding.

But I have to wonder why the blood transfusions were not co-opted in the same way?

Like!!! We keep going back to them!!! Van Helsing in particular is so uncomfortable about the implications of sharing his blood with this young girl who was another man’s fiancée! Arthur compares it to an actual wedding ceremony!! John and Quincey let their own blood be drawn because they also loved her!!! WHY ARE BLOOD TRANSFUSIONS NOT ROMANTICISED IN THE WAY VAMPIRISM IS.

Can you imagine the creative possibilities? The poetry of giving such a fundamental part of yourself without expecting anything in return? And pushed to its extreme — the devotion that has you wasting yourself away when there is no hope of saving your lover? COME ON don’t tell me it’s not fascinating!!!

"Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!"

Oh oh.

"But of the most blessed of all, when this now Un-Dead be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the poor lady whom we love shall again be free. Instead of working wickedness by night and growing more debased in the assimilating of it by day, she shall take her place with the other Angels. So that, my friend, it will be a blessed hand for her that shall strike the blow that sets her free. To this I am willing; but is there none amongst us who has a better right? Will it be no joy to think of hereafter in the silence of the night when sleep is not: 'It was my hand that sent her to the stars; it was the hand of him that loved her best; the hand that of all she would herself have chosen, had it been to her to choose?' Tell me if there be such a one amongst us?"

Oooooooof

There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we had so dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her destruction was yielded as a privilege to the one best entitled to it, but Lucy as we had seen her in her life, with her face of unequalled sweetness and purity. True that there were there, as we had seen them in life, the traces of care and pain and waste; but these were all dear to us, for they marked her truth to what we knew. […]

"And now, my child, you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips if you will, as she would have you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a grinning devil now—not any more a foul Thing for all eternity. No longer she is the devil's Un-Dead. She is God's true dead, whose soul is with Him!"

🥺🥺🥺

Then we cut off the head and filled the mouth with garlic.

Whiplash

And now onto Mina being cute:

"I was only entering my diary."

"Your diary?" I asked him in surprise.

"Yes," he answered. "I keep it in this." As he spoke he laid his hand on the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and blurted out:—

"Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say something?"

Baby girl… Baby… ❤️

"You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she died; for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was very, very dear to me."

MINAAA 😭😭😭😭

"But do you know that, although I have kept the diary for months past, it never once struck me how I was going to find any particular part of it in case I wanted to look it up?" By this time my mind was made up that the diary of a doctor who attended Lucy might have something to add to the sum of our knowledge of that terrible Being, and I said boldly:—

"Then, Dr. Seward, you had better let me copy it out for you on my typewriter."

I love her your honour ❤️

"You do not know me," I said. "When you have read those papers—my own diary and my husband's also, which I have typed—you will know me better. I have not faltered in giving every thought of my own heart in this cause; but, of course, you do not know me—yet; and I must not expect you to trust me so far."

OH SHE SPEAKS LIKE VAN HELSING ERGO LIKE DRACULA

"I know that Lucy told you of me; she told me of you too."

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

And back to Seward:

I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of Jonathan Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time run on without thinking.

“Wonderful” certainly is one way to describe it, yes.

"That is a wonderful machine, but it is cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones, the anguish of your heart. It was like a soul crying out to Almighty God. No one must hear them spoken ever again! See, I have tried to be useful. I have copied out the words on my typewriter, and none other need now hear your heart beat, as I did."

Mina continues to be the real MVP

And back to Mina:

Fortunately I am not of a fainting disposition.

Oh trust me, I know.

The world seems full of good men—even if there are monsters in it.

THANK YOU YES THAT IS IN FACT THE POINT

[Still traumatised by the 1992 movie]

I remember how much "The Dailygraph" and "The Whitby Gazette," of which I had made cuttings, helped us to understand the terrible events at Whitby when Count Dracula landed, so I shall look through the evening papers since then, and perhaps I shall get some new light.

WHAT A WOMAN.

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[kittyandco]

I just think it's funny how people will act like i'm not aware of the (very fictional!) crimes that my favorite characters commit and their supposed implications... yeah buddy i know he killed 39838949837029802398 people and frowned at puppies but those people are also not real! if i say "oh he looked hot while doing it," does that make me an accessory? does that make me culpable because i didn't try to stop it or constantly condemn it? what would functionally change about the (real) world or myself if i paraded around and screamed about the horrors that Bad Fictional Character committed? absolutely nothing. that's the crux of this, i think. it's about wanting to look morally upstanding in every facet of your life, which is, of course, the same aesthetic evangelical puritans go for. are we not allowed to wear red, now, too?

i'm not virtue signaling for you. i know where my ethics are and it's certainly not accusing people of being somehow inherently bad because they like (or god forbid, RELATE TO) a fictional character you think is evil incarnate that can somehow hurt you in real life

is finding a fictional dictator intriguing on every level there is make me into an Atrocities Apologist? those didn't actually happen... i love thinking too hard about fiction, and many stories have a great impact on my life, like art can do, but i can at least understand the difference between real events and fictional events. and if you don't, then... damn, if it's that serious, i guess we'll all have to condemn the little kids (and their parents) who dress up as Darth Vader for Halloween because they think he's cool 🤷‍♀️ were they somehow brainwashed into BadWrong so early?

it does not automatically carry over. understanding the origin of characters who have a relatable backstory who make terrible choices or even just being like "he's so awful but/and he's really cool" and leaving it at that doesn't mean i'm immediately like "omg real life war criminal i totally get where you're coming from let me try to fix you!!!!!" idk how those could even be comparable or how that could happen to anyone, if i'm honest.

and i hate the argument that like "you can find real life parallels though! so that's what makes you Bad if you like Bad Man!" THAT'S HOW ART IS MADE, YOU MAKE FROM EXPERIENCE AND HOW YOU VIEW THE WORLD CAN MAKE ITS WAY INTO YOUR WORK THAT'S HOW THINKING WORKS. but people who believe in this concept i'm arguing against really don't have imaginations, do they? and you can absolutely Make A Statement in anything. any piece of art can be a statement about society in some way. does that make the characters and the events therein any less fictional?

[kideternity]

POOR JYOU during the whole crest fiasco Vamdemom didn’t even give a shit over if his crest actually lit up or not. Dude just immediately skipped past the poor kid and went Right! We need to find and murder the 8th chosen child like 😭😭😭 ARENT YOU FORGETTING SOMETHING

[theoldkyokodied]

One wedding and three funerals

Background paintings under the cut

[sorunort]

(You are bound to the Universe's will the same way the moon is bound to this planet, the same way the planet is bound to the sun, the same way a puppet is bound it's strings!!!!!!)

top ten pieces of dialogue ive screencapped because of how normal it is and how normal it made me feel